


Blame it on the Mole

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Waverly's urging, Napoleon and Illya check into a very exclusive hotel.  And THRUSH is watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame it on the Mole

 

 “Hey, Frankie, holy Mother of Mary!”   The THRUSH agent slapped his erstwhile partner on the leg. 

Frank came awake with a start and stared around the room in a panic.  “What? What the hell did you wake me up for?”

“Look who we have checking in.”

“That looks like the Russian guy… what’s his name… Kuryakin?    And Solo?  Those two checking into a gay hotel?  You have got to be shitting me… wow, Solo doesn’t like to waste time, does he?”

 “Good God, if I kissed my wife like that, she’d kill me.”

“Ray, if you kissed your wife like that, she’d have you enshrined.  The recorder running and getting all of this?”

“Yeah, I wish we had audio though.  I’d love to know what they are saying.”

“With Solo’s tongue that far down his throat, I don’t think Kuryakin is saying much of anything… I heard Solo was a mover.  Holy shit… will you look at that?”

“Hell, he’s going to take him right … He’s gonna rip him apart doing that… oh, my God…ow… ow…… is that even possible? ”  Frank crossed his legs and pressed his ass protectively into the cushion of the chair.

“Obviously, since we’re looking at it.  This is better than the last three porn movies I rented.  Crank up the a/c, will you?  It’s getting mighty warm in here.”   Ray grinned and fanned himself.

“Okay, you can’t tell me a man’s ass is designed to take it like that.  That’s gotta hurt.”

“Look at Kuryakin’s erection – you can’t be that hard and hate what’s happening to you.  And look at his face. You can’t tell me he’s not loving it.”     

“Thank God the wife isn’t seeing…”

“Wait, what’s he doing now?  Ah, ugh, eh, that’s just not right…damn…”   Ray winced and shook his head, but his attention never wandered from the TV screen.  “How does a man come having that done to him… ?  I don’t understand…” 

“Looks like it’s Solo’s turn.  He’s going to have to bend more than that…”

 

Illya Kuryakin came awake instantly and darted a look around.  In front of the room, the head of Section Three was droning on about something, his back to the other Section heads.  Illya glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying him any attention.  A few had even followed his lead and were dozing.

“Late night after I dropped you off?  I told you she wanted you.”  Napoleon glanced over, smiling.  “You were really out there for a minute.  Not that Hank would ever notice.”   He gave Illya’s shoulder a playful punch. “You okay?  You look a little flushed.  You’re not coming down with anything, are you?” 

 _Just a bad case of lust_ , Illya thought.  Aloud, he murmured, “I had a very weird dream.”   Illya was very aware of the wetness in his trousers.  “Really weird dream.”

“Probably that chicken _mole_ you had last night.  You should have gone with the _huevos rancheros._  You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

 _I’m going to tell you I was dreaming about having sex with you.  Right, like that’s going to happen, Napoleon._ “What’s Hank going on about?  Did I miss anything vital?”

“Oh, Waverly’s found out about some rather exclusive hotel THRUSH is running and is thinking about infiltrating it… he’s looking for volunteers.”  Napoleon studied his partner, his eyes dropping to Illya’s lap.  Illya automatically crossed his legs.  “It’s a… very… exclusive hotel.”

“You are not thinking about what I think you’re thinking about?”

“Too late… you shouldn’t fall asleep in briefing… you get volunteered for all sorts of things.”  Napoleon just grinned.  “Besides, how bad could it be?”  He frowned as he watched Illya pinch his forearm, and then wince.  “What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake myself up.”

“You are awake.” Napoleon chuckled softly.  “And please don’t tell me you dream about staff meetings.”

“Awake is what I’m afraid of…  Tell me you didn’t tell Waverly that we would handle this.”

“Okay, I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t exactly say no either.”

“This is not going to end well.”  Illya sighed loudly and Hank spun, glaring at him, his face stained red. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Napoleon whispered, grinning at the Section Three head.

“It already has…”  Illya dropped his gaze to the table top.  He had not endeared himself to Hank, but they weren’t exactly on good terms anyway.  Nothing lost there.

“That’s going to do it for today.”  Hank gathered up his material.  “I hope I haven’t kept any of you from anything or anyone important.”  Now he was staring directly at Illya, but Illya chose to meet the glare head on.

“Not yet, at any rate,” Illya said.   Hank blustered, a complaint of half-mumbled words swirling about his head as he hurried from the room.

“Way to go, Kuryakin.  I hope you’re not counting on his cooperation on anything soon.”  Strunk, the head of Section Eight, smirked.  “I should have you enshrined for that.” 

“What do you mean by that?”  Illya snapped.

“Nothing!  Boy, you **are** on edge today.  You need something to help you calm down.”  Strunk watched the other Section heads follow Hank’s lead and depart.    He patted Illya on the shoulder.  “We’ll have those samples ready to go this afternoon if you want to stop by around three.”

“I’m sorry, Gordon.  I will see you at three then.”    He watched Gordon leave and then switched his attention back to his partner. "What?”

“So are you going to tell me about this dream of yours?”  Napoleon pointed to Illya’s lap again and smiled.  “The one that made you do that?”

“No!”  Illya fought to keep the blush from his face.  “It’s personal.”

“I’ll bet she is…”  He rose and watched Illya stand, making a face as he pulled his pants from his skin.  “I’d tell you.”

“That’s because you are an insufferable American and a bit of a cad. I am neither.”

“I can’t wait to see you make it through UNCLE’s well lit corridors like that.  And you know you are going to meet everyone you know and or respect on your way to the locker room.”

Without taking his eyes from Napoleon’s, Illya reached out and lifted up a large cup of lukewarm coffee and poured it down his shirt front.  It blazed a beige trail from his stomach downward.

“You never cease to amaze me, partner.  I’m just glad you grabbed something that wasn’t hot… Okay, go change and I’ll meet you in Waverly’s office in ten minutes.”  Napoleon chuckled and then stopped.  “Wait, that was my coffee…”

“Mine would have led to blisters.”  Illya gave him a half grin and walked gingerly from the room.  “But feel free to drink it,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

Napoleon reached for the half filled cup and sniffed.  "Tea?  No, thank you.”

 

Ten minutes later, in a clean suit, Illya took his usual seat at the circular table.  Waverly was softly talking into a microphone and Illya used the time to open and begin to read the folder before him.   He pulled out his glasses and studied the report., but his mind kept wandering back to the dream.  The thought of Napoleon actually touching him… taking him… it was almost more than his nervous system could handle and all the messages were headed straight to his groin.

“Illya, if you frown any more, your face will implode.”

 Illya glanced up sharply, as if awakening from a dream, and looked over at his partner.  “I’m sorry?”

Napoleon reached out and tapped Illya’s forehead… or tried to.  Illya shied from the contact and Napoleon’s own brow wrinkled.   “What’s going on in there?  You seem to be in a world of your own making of late.”

“Just thinking about an experiment I have running in the lab,” Illya said, almost too quickly.  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  He did have half a dozen experiments in various stages being babysat by coworkers.    He didn’t know why the dream bothered him so much; it wasn’t the first time he’d experienced something like that regarding his partner.  It was just the first time it had caught him in such a vulnerable situation. "I do not see the purpose of this.”

Napoleon nodded, but Illya could tell he only half believed him.  It was an aspect of their partnership that he both treasured and despised, this connection they shared; it was as if Napoleon could home in and read his very thoughts.  But that was ridiculous, for if it was true, Napoleon would know of Illya’s deepest, most closely guarded secret.  And Illya knew Napoleon didn’t have a clue, and he fully intended to keep it that way.

“Why?” 

Waverly’s voice startled him and Illya glanced over at him, blinking.  “Sir?”

“You said you didn’t see the purpose in this and I was requesting elucidation.  It’s not like you to be so vague, Mr. Kuryakin.”  Waverly lowered his pipe and shook his head.  “Or this distracted.  Is there something you’d like to share with us?”

“No, sir.  I was just confused as to what THRUSH is hoping to achieve with this new venture.   Surely this is nothing new.  Men check into hotels together all the time for a variety of reasons.  I am dubious that this would lead to any practical gain on THRUSH’s part.”

“They offer anonymity and privacy, Mr. Kuryakin, or at least that is what they are advertising.”

“Anyone thinking they are on the level is dwelling in a fantasy world of their own making, then.”  Illya shut the folder and took off his glasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“It isn’t like THRUSH is attaching its name to this.  The proprietor, while not exactly above the law, isn’t on our list of THRUSH businessmen.”

“We feel that he is positioning himself to take on just such a role.”  Waverly tapped his pipe with a forefinger.  “This is why I have decided to send a team in.” 

“Anyone in particular, sir?”   Napoleon had finished his file and closed it up.

“It needs to be a high profile team to ensure interest, but also one that can handle the situation should something go awry.”  Waverly paused to relight his pipe.  “I would prefer volunteers, Mr. Solo.”

“Yes, sir.  We understand, don’t we, Illya?”

“All too well, I’m afraid.”

Illya waited until they were clear of the boss’s office.  “Do you want me to start a list of how badly this can go wrong, Napoleon?  Surely we can send another team in.”

“We are about as high profile as you get in UNCLE, Illya.”  Napoleon led the way back to their office.  “And we have the added benefit of having a whirlwind of rumors at our back.”

“Wonderful.  I don’t expect this will aid in the elimination of said rumors.”  They walked through the door and each went to their own desk.  Illya pushed aside a stack of lab reports to clear a spot on his blotter.  "Why is Waverly doing this, Napoleon?”

“Because he trusts us and thinks we can pull this off.  Or maybe he’s trying to put the rumors to bed.   Or verify them.  I have no way of knowing how that man’s mind works.  We are, however, going to have to come up with some suitable moves. Have you ever kissed a guy before, Illya?”

“I was stationed for eighteen months on a nuclear submarine with a hundred healthy sailors, what do you think, Napoleon?”

“I’ll take that as a yes… and the rest?”

“Also not a novice.  You?”

“Well, more in theory than actual practice.”

“In short, you talk a good story.”  Illya sighed and lifted his feet up to rest on his desk top.  “This has long day written all over it.”

“I’m a fast learner,” Napoleon protested from his own desk.

“You are going to have to be.”  Illya took a deep breath and decided to take the bull by the horns.  “Have you ever given a man a blow job?”

“No.”

“Had anal sex?”

“Of course not.”

“Frottage?”

“Thought about it.”

“Correction, a long day and a longer night.”  Illya sighed, ran a hand through his hair and dropped his feet to the floor.  “Napoleon, what makes you think you can pull this off?

“I’d like to think I can pull just about anything off… If you know what I mean,”

“Not this.  Send me in with Mark.”

“What?”

“I won’t betray a confidence.  It would just be… easier with him.”

“I don’t think so.  Besides, he’s on assignment and embedded.  You should have a little faith in me.”

“I do… have little faith in you.  Napoleon, this isn’t just something you can pick up by listening to a tape or reading a book,” Illya said, studying his partner. 

“I thought that’s how…”

“Stop there.”  Illya sighed.  “You are determined to go through with this?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will meet you at your apartment in half an hour.”

“What for?”

“Please, don’t feign naiveté, Napoleon; it isn’t flattering.  If you are serious about this assignment, then we need to move this to different surroundings.”

 

Napoleon looked up anxiously as Illya walked into the penthouse apartment and Illya saw a flash of something play across from his face.  Fear, confusion?  Desire?  He couldn’t tell.  It was gone too fast.

As he walked towards his partner, Napoleon stood, confidence again taking hold of his features.  Illya stopped before him and looked the brunet up and down.

“Tell me what to do,” Napoleon said, a smile playing on his lips.

“Kiss me,” Illya said simply and waited for the response.  Within a second, Napoleon’s lips had fastened upon his, mouth working over his, tongue eagerly forcing entrance.  Illya opened his mouth willingly, ready to see just how far Napoleon was going to take this.  He managed to repress a sigh as Napoleon’s tongue explored every crevice, every possible inch it could reach.

He felt Napoleon’s hands traveling down his body, pulling him close, fingers digging into his back.

Illya pulled away and frowned.  “Is that how you kiss women?”

“You’re not a woman, Illya.”  Napoleon planted a hand on either side of Illya’s head and held him still as he came in for another round of thorough kissing.  “The last thing you are is feminine.  You’re my partner, my friend…”  He broke off to kiss Illya yet again.

Illya broke free and Napoleon didn’t fight him.  “I’m also not a fool, Napoleon.”

“Also something I never took you for.”

“Really?  So you set up this with Waverly?”

“Bona fide, the real McCoy, genuine article, call it what you will.  If you are accusing me of taking advantage of a situation, then I plead guilty.  If you are accusing me of manipulating you into a certain position, likewise, I will take the blame.  However, if you are accusing me of playing you for a fool – never crossed my mind.”

He reached for Illya, but the Russian retreated a step.  “This is not right.  This is not the Napoleon I know.”

“Thought you knew, you mean.  It galls you to think that I might not be the open book I’ve led you to believe, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t…”

“I think you do, _tovarish_.” Napoleon moved a fraction of an inch and Illya held his ground, studying the agent.  “You think I’m… what did you call me…. an insufferable American and a bit of a cad?”  Another step and Napoleon was close enough to touch him again.  Illya’s eyes tracked Napoleon’s hand as it lifted to card through his hair and let the strands fall back into place.  “And you, my friend, are what we call an open book.” 

Illya closed his eyes as Napoleon’s other hand cupped his genitals through the fabric of his trousers.  “How?” he managed to whisper.  “I was so careful.”

”I think I’ve known from the very first and kept waiting for you to make a move.  I flirted with you, practically threw myself at your feet and watched you step over me and go into someone else’s arms.”  Illya gritted his teeth as Napoleon’s hand squeezed and massaged him.  "And I’ve gotten tired of waiting, partner.”

Napoleon slipped his hand behind Illya’s head and held him still for a soul-burning kiss.  Illya felt like he was suddenly waking from a long sleep.

“So what do you think?”  Napoleon touched foreheads with him, panting slightly.

“That we have way too many clothes between us and way too much lost time to make up for.” And Illya reached for Napoleon’s tie.

 

                                                                                                ******

They entered the hotel and Napoleon looked around, trying to emit an air of both excitement and nervousness.  Beside him, Illya stayed hidden behind a pair of mirrored aviator glasses, acting very much the unconcerned partner.

Napoleon reached over and slid the glasses off Illya’s face and held them out.  “They need to know it’s you, Illya.  Remember, we aren’t trying to hide this and we know nothing about any of it.  We’re just looking for some place quiet to have some private time.”  He led the way to the registration desk and went through the familiar routine of checking in while Illya kept his attention shifting from one spot to another.

The lobby, in fact, seemed very much the norm, run-of-the-mill hotel lobby.  There was a collection of uncomfortable looking furniture, art by an unknown, and obviously for a good reason, ignored artist.  There was a small restaurant and even a gift shop.  It looked completely and absolutely normal and that bothered Illya very much.

“Coming?” Napoleon’s voice broke into his reverie and Illya nodded.

“Eventually.”    He followed Napoleon to the elevator and shook his head. "I’m getting nothing, Napoleon.”

The elevator doors opened and two men, both looking a little embarrassed, exited hurriedly, as if by lingering their rendezvous would be more apparent. 

Napoleon smiled after them and stepped into the elevator and waited for Illya to join him.  The moment the doors slid shut, Napoleon slammed him into a corner and began to kiss him with a fire that startled Illya for a moment.  Then he grinned and gave back as good as he got.

The elevator dinged arrival to the next floor and Napoleon pulled back, licking his lips as if savoring the flavor left behind.

“I think we are this way.”  He pointed and walked hurriedly down the corridor, doing a remarkable imitation of a man who had been waiting far too long for a treasured moment. 

He unlocked the door and let Illya take a step in before pressing him back against the wall and kissing him again.  Time hung suspended as they simply stood there, lost in the moment. 

Napoleon was the first to break away, abandoning Illya’s mouth as he ran his tongue from Illya’s jaw to his ear and whispered “Now we play for the camera.”  Previous recon had assured them that cameras were placed in strategic locations about the small room.

“Play, hell, this is for keeps.”  Illya tore at Napoleon’s jacket pushing it from his shoulders, even as Napoleon continued to worry his ear.  He fumbled with Napoleon’s belt and fly, eagerness making his hands feel clumsy.  If THRUSH was going to tape them for blackmail purposes, Illya had every intention of giving them an eyeful.

He pulled away from Napoleon and dropped to his knees.  Napoleon clamped his hands onto Illya’s shoulders and merely held on while Illya took him on the blowjob ride of his life.

 

Illya stretched out on the bed, unconcerned that he was naked and quite probably being filmed.  His attention was focused upon the man, similarly _au natural,_ approaching him, a drink in one hand, a tube of K-Y Jelly in the other. 

Napoleon handed him the glass and Illya tossed back the contents and grinned as the lube likewise changed hands.

Napoleon stretched out beside him.  “How do you want to do this?” he whispered into Illya’s ear as the Russian fumbled off the cap.

“On your back would be best for the cameras unless you’re too sore from last night…”  He trailed off as Napoleon rolled to one side and reached for a pillow.

Illya smeared two of his fingers and knelt between Napoleon’s splayed legs.  No matter how Napoleon was playing this, he knew the man was sore, bound to be considering the way they’d jack rabbited the night before.  With gentle even pressure, he slid a finger in and Napoleon gasped, tilting his head back.

Determined to make this as good as he could and possibly to torment himself a bit longer, Illya bowed his head and took Napoleon’s penis in his mouth again, rolling it on his tongue as if it were a lollipop.  He dragged his teeth carefully over the glans and smiled as anal muscles clenched at his finger.  He repeated the move and added another finger, adjusting his angle so that he could rub a calloused fingertip over Napoleon’s prostate.

The agent nearly came off the bed, and rammed himself into Illya’s mouth with enough force to gag him.  Immediately, Napoleon started to pull back, but Illya followed.

Then, when he was sure Napoleon was just on the brink, he retreated and sat back on his haunches.  Napoleon grumbled, but eagerly adjusted the pillow in the small of his back while Illya slathered his own penis with lube.

Illya leaned down for a quick kiss and murmured, “All at once or a little bit at a time?”

Napoleon’s tongue crept out to stroke Illya’s bottom lip.  “Surprise me.”

Illya surprised both of them.

                                                                                                ****

Illya eased himself down into the unrelenting plastic of the office chair.  It wouldn’t have mattered if the chair had been upholstered in goose down, nothing would alleviate the results of his evening with Napoleon.  He half smiled to himself as Napoleon sat, most of his weight balanced upon one side of his body, taking the pressure off his own point of contention.

“I did a partial review of the tapes we secured from THRUSH, just prior to their destruction.  You gentlemen are to be commended for an excellent and very convincing performance.   The hotel and its proprietor have been addressed and the tapes they were making for blackmail purposes have all been disposed of.”  Waverly closed the file he’d been reviewing.  “Turn in your reports and I will see you back in two days. Dismissed.”

“Two days?” Illya asked as they walked back towards their office.  “The Old Man hasn’t been replaced by a ringer, has he?  He’s not usually that generous.”

“Maybe he figures that in two days we might actually have the ability to sit through a staff meeting.” Napoleon purposefully kept his voice low.  While their assignment hadn’t exactly been top secret, it had been deemed ‘Eyes Only.’ 

Illya was amazed that nothing seemed to really change that morning.  Napoleon had flirted outrageously with the receptionist, the cafeteria worker, their secretary.  He’d joked with a couple of their fellow agents, made appointments, signed necessary papers and in short acted as if they hadn’t just come from a night of extremely physical and shared passion.  And this had been after they’d left the hotel and returned to Napoleon’s apartment.

“What’s wrong?” Napoleon caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he eased himself into his chair.  “Besides the obvious.  Tell me this gets better after awhile.”

“Or you get used to it.”  Illya chose to stand instead as he started to review his own notes.   "I can’t really say.”

“Do you have plans for tonight?” 

“Sleep, I think…”  Illya glanced up at Napoleon through half-lowered eyelids.  “Or do you have something else in mind?”

Napoleon bent down to rummage through his bottom drawer and pulled out a manila envelope.  “Let’s just say, Waverly burned the originals, but I made a copy before he did.”

“You… you did what?”  Illya’s face grew serious.  He reached hesitantly for the envelope, hefting it in his hand. 

“For your viewing pleasure only.  Or you could put these out on the open market and you’d be a star, my friend.” 

Illya tossed the envelope down onto Napoleon’s desk top and shook his head.  “No, thank you, there’s only one person I shine for now.”  He smiled gently, then winced. “And from where I’m standing at the moment, one star is more than enough to dream upon.”

“And dreams are made of this?”

“If you are very, very lucky.”  Illya reached out and touched Napoleon’s cheek with a finger.  “And I am… very, very lucky…”

 

 

 

 


End file.
